As I write this, there is a huge lump in my throat. It even hurts to swallow my own saliva.  ”Tonsillitis,” the doctor had called it.

But amidst all the pain this past week, my dear loving brother brought me what some call “a girl’s best friend.” No, not diamonds.  Chocolate!

I thanked him (Isn’t that what good little sisters are supposed to do?).

But as that yummy glorious piece of chocolate melted in my mouth and slid past my throat, PAIN was redefined.  My pus-covered, enlarged tonsils screamed, “ENOUGH!”

Enough indeed. Chocolate for my wounds - sweet on my tongue, sheer torture down my throat.

Funny as this story might sound to you (believe me, I was NOT laughing), it made me think of the many times I have served my Savior chocolate for His wounds.

A man with a “Homeless” sign stands on the street corner and I drive by because I don’t have enough change (a $10.00 bill might be better spent, right?)

Chocolate for His wounds.

A classmate needs help but I’m too busy….. facebooking?

Chocolate for His wounds.

The old man driving in front of me is going 10 miles under the speed limit. I mutter under my breath as I pass him by.

Chocolate for His wounds.

My little 5-year-old sister wants to plays with me but mean words escape my tongue.

Chocolate for His wounds.

Sometimes, I butcher the Pastor and his sermon for Sabbath lunch.

Chocolate for His wounds.

The Son of God gave me a robe of righteousness to cover my filth and I gave him chocolate for His wounds.

Like Paul, I cry out:

“So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?

Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:21-25)